Unravel
by Uozumi
Summary: Every villain has a trigger. Jim's life consisted of two: the trigger that inspired him to profit from helping criminals commit crimes and the trigger that led to his games with Sherlock Holmes. MoriartyMoran pairing.


**Fandom** _Sherlock_ (2010)  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s)** Sebastian Moran, Jim Moriarty; Moran/Moriarty  
**Genre** Drama/Slash  
**Rating** PG-13  
**Word Count** 2,692  
**Disclaimer** Sherlock c. Doyle, Moffat, Gatiss, BBC.  
**Summary** Every villain has a trigger. Jim's life consisted of two: the trigger that inspired him to profit from helping criminals commit crimes and the trigger that led to his games with Sherlock Holmes.  
**Warning(s)** spoilers up through series two episode three of _Sherlock_, cancer, character death  
**Notes** My Tumblr dashboard discussing how Jim Moriarty obviously has a heart is the reason this fic exists. I admit, I'm about 99.9% convinced that the defence attorney in "The Reichenbach Fall" was Sebastian masquerading, however, everyone has their own personal actor who plays Sebastian in their head and mine is still Sebastian Roché. This fic takes into account what Jim would really look like at the end of "The Reichenbach Fall."

_**Unravel**_

Every villain has a trigger. Every villain has that episode that either broke their psychological back or destroyed their perceived universe. Jim Moriarty was no different. His criminal path began in the early 1990s upon the death of his mother. He drew within himself and found that he could manipulate computers to do amazing things. However, being too close to the action was unwise, so he trawled forums and offered his services to would be bank robbers. He knew how to extract his share of the profits from their bank accounts. It fascinated and challenged him for a few years and then it became too much of a routine. It was then that he met Sebastian Moran.

Sebastian fought in the Gulf War around the time Jim discovered his proficiency for hacking. He had a dishonourable discharge he never spoke of and Jim did not pry. The first time Jim saw Sebastian was along Sandymount Road in Dublin 4. Sebastian stood near the wall between the pavement and the water, his eyes focussed off into the distance. Jim's gaze passed over him and he might have kept walking except he could not tell what Sebastian was thinking.

Jim's business hinged upon him being able to weed out what other people assumed and thought. Many of his interactions with clients were anonymous and through text, but he worked hard to be able to catch facial clues and body language to assist with analyzing security footage.

"You're staring," Sebastian stated before his eyes shifted from the horizon to Jim. Jim could hear Eton in Sebastian's accent alongside something much rougher. It intrigued him.

"I have a good reason." Jim drew closer. Even then, he could not glean what Sebastian thought. It was fascinating as well as almost alluring. Jim tried not to be too obvious. While it was two years since Ireland decriminalized homosexuality, caution was necessary and ingrained. He did not know enough about this Sebastian Moran person. It would be best to play it safe.

Sebastian surveyed Jim a long moment. "I'm Sebastian Moran." He did not offer his hand to shake, but Jim did not detect it as a negative gesture.

"I'm Jim," Jim answered. "Maybe if you stick around, I'll tell you my last name." It was a small flirtation.

Sebastian smiled ever so slightly. "It's my first night in Dublin and I'm lost. Know any good food?"

That was fifteen years ago. Jim told Sebastian that he was part of an IT team for a large and important company. Sometimes they went to the company's parties. The company was large enough that nobody questioned if Jim actually worked there. Jim knew he had the look of someone who blended in, became forgettable and he played it up well. It kept his real job helping criminals with various crimes from Sebastian's knowledge. He used the rules of being in charge of the external networking to explain why he worked from home. He kept the real size of his own finances to himself and presented plausible budgets when he and Sebastian moved began living together eleven years ago when they took residence in London. If someone were to catch Jim now, his highest charges would be accessory to the various crimes he helped commit. Jim made it a point to never lift a finger or do any part of a job in person.

Jim emerged from the study where he preformed his illicit activities. He stretched and then looked around. He could hear the television but Sebastian, who worked as a volunteer for the St. John Ambulance Brigade, was not due home for a few hours. Jim quietly crept to a drawer where Sebastian hid one of his many guns in the house when Jim claimed his life might be in jeopardy for some things he saw during his tenure as IT specialist. Once the gun was in his hand, he continued to make his way to the noise of the television quietly.

"It's me," Sebastian called out to him just before Jim could round the corner and view the room. "Don't shoot."

Jim secured the gun and set it on an end table, the muzzle pointed away from any people or windows nearby. "I thought you were at work."

Sebastian sat on the sofa. He was not facing Jim, but Jim could tell something was not right. He approached the sofa and then sat beside Sebastian, letting his knees drape over Sebastian's thighs. His side leaned against the sofa and he tried to ignore the programme in the background. He knew Sebastian was not really listening or watching it.

"It's cancer, Jim." Sebastian was a direct person.

This was the first Jim heard of such a thing even worrying Sebastian. "What do you mean, 'it?'" His voice was firm, but quiet.

Sebastian turned off the television. He set the clicker aside. His eyes shifted to Jim. "Pancreatic cancer." He shifted his weight. "I talked to someone at work about this pain I was feeling in my back. They said something about I looked fatigued and thinner, so I looked into it. There were some referrals and then a biopsy and scans."

"And you didn't tell me?" Jim swung his legs off Sebastian's thighs.

"I didn't know at first. It could have been gallstones," Sebastian pointed out. "They said that as long as it hasn't spread, I should be fine with surgery."

Jim frowned. His eyebrows knitted and he took a deep breath. "Mam had cancer." He never mentioned it to Sebastian before. He generally did not talk about his past to anyone. He knew that modern cancer treatments were different from twenty years ago, but it started to eat at him. Yet, even after a second opinion, the doctors assured that surgery would fix it and Jim tried to accept that.

The surgery was in late autumn and went well. Recovery seemed to be as anyone could expect. It was after the new year when the doctors detected the cancer spread to the lymphatic system. Jim felt frustration grip him first. It seemed like somehow the doctors should have been able to detect this sooner. Sebastian was under radiation therapy currently but it did not seem to do the job the doctors promised. Jim watched Sebastian sleeping. He could see Sebastian slipping from him. He needed a distraction.

Jim pretended to quit his company job and took a legitimate job working at the IT department at St. Barts. He saw Sherlock Holmes when he worked to fix one of the computers in the morgue. It took only a glance for Jim to know Sherlock was exceptional, different. Sherlock was intelligent, clever, and flaunted it like a great big flashing challenge sign. A quick Google later found John's blog and case details as well as Sherlock's blog, which allowed Jim to study the man's thought process. Jim had never encountered someone with such intellectual prowess before and he wanted to test it. Sherlock became his official distraction from thinking about Moran's situation.

Jim set about planning all the events he wanted to accomplish with Sherlock. He had to estimate how long Sebastian might have left alive to time it properly. The doctors all said different things, but the average guess seemed to be more than a year but less than two years. Jim acted quickly, knowing his plan would take just over a year to complete. The biggest problem with the plan was the nightly news. All of Jim's capers would play out on it. Sebastian always watched it at least once a day. Jim knew Sebastian was not stupid or unobservant. It did not surprise Jim when he came home from work on the night of the gas main explosion that Sebastian sat on the staircase just inside the door waiting for him. Sebastian looked drawn.

"Hello," Jim greeted cautiously. When Sebastian waited on the stairs for him, it meant a serious conversation would follow.

"I know what you did," Sebastian said. "I know what you do. I've known for a long time." He had on his dressing gown, but underneath he wore jeans and a shirt. His feet were bare.

Jim did not say anything. He took a breath and then sat down beside Sebastian on the staircase. "I started a game."

"I don't say anything because you don't participate actively," Sebastian said. "You're exposing yourself."

"I know." Jim wove his fingers together and rested his arms on his thighs.

"I'm going to help." Sebastian gripped his own knees firmly. "I can't sit by and let you do this alone." It was not how this conversation played out in Jim's mind when he considered his fate if Sebastian learned his real occupation.

"I'm not alone," Jim said. "I have many people who owe me many favours. You need to recover."

"I'm not going to recover." It was the first time Sebastian said that to Jim. "Jim, it's not working. It's not shrinking."

Jim grew quiet and watched his fingers. He knew Sebastian would not stop watching him no matter how long the silence lasted. "You asked about a pair of trainers vacuum sealed upstairs. It was something a woman gave me as insurance." He rubbed his face. "Sherlock Holmes has them now."

"I've heard of him," Sebastian said. "I knew his brother briefly in school." He looked at Jim. "I know you've done a lot of shit, Jim, but now's not the time to get caught."

"I'm not going to," Jim said. "Or at least, I'm not going to prison just yet." He reached out and put his hand over Sebastian's closest hand. "I won't abandon you, Seb."

Sebastian took Jim's hand. "That's not what I mean." He looked at Jim. "Prison isn't a place to aspire to go." He ran his thumb along Jim's hand. He lived a healthy lifestyle and with the cancer still not aggressive, he looked unwell but with life still in him. His hand was still strong in Jim's hand.

The longer Sebastian lived, however, the more Jim could see the cancer taking over Sebastian's health. It set Jim on edge. He tried not to include Sebastian in his game with Sherlock. Sebastian made offers to help and Jim did let him do small things, but he did not want Sebastian caught up in any plan that might go awry.

It was almost a year later when Jim went to trial for breaking into secure locations around London. Jim's connections found Sebastian a seat in the gallery observing the trial. Sebastian sat several people away from John and kept to himself. Sebastian wanted to be there, to hear everything against Jim, and watch Jim get out of the predicament. He also wanted to see Sherlock and John up close and assess what Jim was up against outside of the courtroom. Sebastian was now very thin and very pale. He used his training to help blend into the crowd of onlookers in the gallery. He would not underestimate a captain from the royal army.

After Jim visited Sherlock for tea after the verdict, he came home. He sat down beside Sebastian on the sofa and let Sebastian drape his legs over Jim's thighs. "It's escalated," Jim said. He rubbed Sebastian's legs a little, trying to promote circulation and warmth.

"You're getting reckless," Sebastian said. "I think you want it to escalate. I think you don't want to escape it."

Jim did not look at Sebastian's face. He ran the backs of his fingernails along Sebastian's calf. It was a common gesture from over the years. It showed him just how sick Sebastian was even if Sebastian tried not to emotionally or mentally show it to Jim. "I have two final things I will do to him," Jim said, "and then he will pick a place and pick a time to die."

"You're going to follow him," Sebastian said.

Jim could feel Sebastian's gaze. He took a breath. "When I set this in motion, I thought I knew my time frame. I need things from people and I had to set this all up last year." He frowned. "I let the gas main explode too early. I thought it was the right time." Jim was good at timetables and allowing for a margin of error, but cancer was unpredictable. His margin could be off by a year.

Sebastian moved closer then and ran his hand through Jim's hair. He leaned over and kissed Jim's ear. "I understand." Sebastian was not sure for how much longer after Jim died he would live, but he did not think he could take his own life, even for loneliness. If there was an after world, he knew they were both going to the same part of it. "It would finish your narrative to end that way." His fingers moved from Jim's hair down along the back of his neck. "If this is what you want, I will support it. I owe you that much."

Jim shivered and closed his eyes briefly. "Yes. I do." It was something he decided and came to terms with some time ago.

"If I can, I'm going to be there. I won't let them get your body," Sebastian said. "You deserve something better than lab specimen."

Those words echoed in Sebastian's mind months later as he stood atop St. Barts. Sebastian saw numerous dead bodies in his life. However, it was quite different when the body was his partner. "You always have to go for the dramatic," Sebastian said after a long stare he did not think he would take. He brought a wheelchair up with him to the roof to use as a ruse to get Jim's body out of the hospital only to find Jim had blown most of his face off with a gun in his mouth. Sebastian had to move fast, but his body struggled. He unfolded the chair and dragged Jim over to it. He saw Sherlock's phone discarded on the roof. It looked deliberate. Sebastian suspected he had less time than he anticipated to finish his task.

Sebastian took off his jacket, put it over Jim's head, and then carefully started down the stairwell. He knew it was noisy but he anticipated people to be distracted by the excitement going on the pavement in front of the hospital. Except, when he exited onto the top floor, he almost wheeled Jim right into Molly. Sebastian heard stories of Molly and did not need to see her before to know her. She did not seem to know him.

"What are –" Molly began.

"Emergency." Sebastian tried to move around her and head to the service elevator. It would be a gamble to take an elevator, but he did not have the energy to carry Jim to an exit to the outside.

Molly moved in his way. "I can't let you." Her eyes shifted to the staircase. Sebastian suspected that she needed to obtain the phone before the police.

Sebastian took a breath. "Yes, you can." His eyebrows furrowed and he tried to keep his voice calm and quiet. He did not want their encounter to escalate. Jim spoke with a platonic fondness for Molly. "You know who this is. You know why I'm taking him away."

"Yes," Molly said and then she barely moved her lips, "and there's a security camera watching us."

"The guards aren't watching it." Sebastian made certain. "I did not touch that phone." Sebastian watched her expression closely. He summoned the service elevator and then wheeled Jim inside it. When the doors closed, Sebastian leaned back against the elevator's wall. Molly wanted Sherlock's phone. It set Sebastian's instincts on edge. He knew that if Sherlock was dead, Sherlock naturally would not want the phone in the wrong hands, but Sebastian felt there was more to it. Molly's interaction with him did not fit the situation based on how Jim described her.

As the elevator moved, Sebastian looked at Jim's corpse slumped in the chair. "It was for nought," he said quietly. Sebastian closed his eyes and made up his mind. He owed Jim so much. Sherlock was alive somewhere. He would find a way to rectify it.

**The End**


End file.
